


The Pulse Of Music In His Blood

by obsidiansky



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, M/M, john plays the trumpet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6513481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidiansky/pseuds/obsidiansky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a crush on the machingband's conductor...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pulse Of Music In His Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pockethobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pockethobbit/gifts).



“People, it’s time to go! Grab your instruments and line up outside!”  
The marching bands conductor rose his voice over the cheerful chatter in the room, packed to the gunnels with people. Immediately chairs were pushed back as the bands members got to their feet and made their way over to where they had put their instruments.  
Suddenly someone shook John by his shoulder: “Get up, mate, we’re leaving!”  
John, harshly pulled out of his daydreams straightened his spine and finally got up to get his trumpet and stand with the other musicians. He could still not get the picture of Sherlock Holmes out of his head. The way his curls bounced up and down when he laughed, how his slender fingers curled around the glass in his hand as he took the last sip and exposed the ivory coloured skin in his neck. “Mate, is everything alright?” Sam, who also played the trumpet, asked.  
Quickly John nodded: “Just daydreams.”  
When he lifted his gaze from the floor he saw Sam grinning at him. “Ooohhh, let me guess whom they are about! Hmm… oh, I know! It’s Angela at the flute” Sam eagerly spit out.  
John could only chuckle at his assumptions. “No, it’s not Angela”, he replied.  
He soon regretted to have told Sam that he was daydreaming when his mate started questioning about nearly every single woman in the band. “Is it Mara? No, it’s Charlotte! … Not her? Okay, it’s Anja, the cute blonde over there…”  
John shook his head, “Stop it Sam, I won’t tell you anyways.”  
The other didn’t even have time to reply because in that moment the conductor in front of the marching band rose his voice to them all: “From now on I expect deepest concentration, from all of you, the only one talking will be me to give instructions! Ready?” As everybody nodded he continued: “Follow me, one, two, three, four!”  
They started marching towards the place where they had to start playing. “Warm up!” the conductor ordered, “Flute, bells!”  
They started playing their warming up, the conductor shouting for every instrument. When they finally reached their starting place he ordered them to stand still and rose his voice to speak to them all: “Band members, you all know why we are here, to be the best band at this competition! We want to outplay all of our rivals, especially my brother’s band! Are you ready to win this?”  
“Yeah!” everybody screamed.  
“Get ready, we have one more minute!”  
John closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tried to concentrate and shut his daydreams out. He recited the order of the songs they were about to perform so he wouldn’t slip and ruin the band’s performance. Then the sound of a whistle made him open his eyes, followed by four rhythmic whistles and the drums started playing. Only two bars left before the trumpets had their entry. When it came, John was ready, him and Sam and all the other band members giving the best they could to please their conductor and to win this competition. John didn’t feel the audience’s gaze on him and his mates when they were marching the street, seamed with people. Deeply concentrated, following every move of their choreography that was practiced so many times that John could’ve walked through it in his sleep.  
They really did the best they could and when the last song ended they were all beaming with happiness. The audience was clapping furiously, obviously impressed by their performance. John finally moved his eyes back on their conductor, who was visibly pleased with their achievements and nodded approvingly. At his command the band bowed one last time before the jury and the audience and then followed his lead away from them, back to the pub they were at before their performance. Jolly chatter rose between John’s band mates and his heart was beating with joy.  
Back at the pub everybody laid down his or her instruments. Relieved John let his body sink into the nearest chair and took a few deep breaths. He somehow felt the urge to get drunk tonight. Maybe he could block the image of bloody gorgeous Sherlock Holmes out of his head this way. Suddenly he felt a sharp gaze piercing his face and he lifted his head up, to stare directly into silvery eyes across the table. He drew in a sharp breath before he could prevent it. “Are you alright, Mr. Watson?” the deep voice asked.  
“Yeah, yeah…” John answered, trying desperately to calm down.  
The amazingly striking man across the table didn’t help him with it at all: “You don’t look okay though, let me buy you a pint, alright?”  
John could only nod in confusion and follow the man with his eyes as he went to the bar. The conductor never actually spoke to any band member like this. He usually preferred to keep distance, or so John thought.  
“Dreaming again, mate?” Sam interrupted his thoughts with a grin.  
“Oi, leave me in peace, would you?” John hissed sharply.  
Sam raised his hands in defence: “Alright, alright! I’m gonna go sit with the ladies over there, if you want to join…”  
When he left him alone John let out the breath he apparently held in and leaned back into his chair. A few moments later he felt a hand on his shoulder and a pint was placed in front of him at the table. “I hope this makes you feel better, Mr. Watson” was whispered into his ear. John couldn’t move for a moment, this definitely wasn’t something he would expect of Sherlock Holmes. The man’s hand lingered on his shoulder a moment longer before it slowly slid down John’s arm to circle his biceps.  
“I can buy you another one any time, if needed” the conductor declared before he took his hand away and sat down opposite John again.  
“Thank you” John murmured.  
“So, Mr. Holmes, do you think we were good enough to outplay your brother’s band today?” John asked a bit insecure.  
Holmes smirked: “Oh, I am very sure of that fact actually”  
“Then we should definitely celebrate that victory!”  
John raised his pint towards him and they clicked the glasses together. John smiled at the conductor warmly before he took his first sip. The cool liquid ran down his throat, which felt as good as a hot tea on a cold winter’s day. His throat was a bit sore after playing the trumpet for such a long time today. John soon noticed that Mr. Holmes wasn’t one for constant chattering. The man didn’t say a lot but when he did it was sharp and direct.  
“How is your job at the surgery going, Mr. Watson?” Holmes asked after he finished half his pint.  
“All right, but certainly not as interesting as back in the army” John sighed.  
His vis-à-vis seemed to scan him thoroughly with his piercing eyes. “Is there a chance you would be interested in a job with more action and a guaranty for adrenaline?”  
John tilted his head a bit and furrowed his brow. “Depends on what this job is about” after some time he added: “and why you are asking me for it.”  
“I think it would suit you perfectly, that’s why I ask” Holmes grinned. “You know what I do for a living, right?”  
John nodded, something with the police and solving crimes.  
“The thing is, I need an assistant and this is where I thought of you immediately”  
John was confused. “You thought of me doing what exactly as your assistant? I just don’t see where you could need help”  
“Anderson won’t work with me” the conductor simply stated and emptied his pint. “I’ll go get another one, you?”  
John agreed and emptied his too.  
When Mr. Holmes had left John for the bar again, he followed the man’s graceful movements with his eyes.  
“I thought Holmes didn’t talk to the ordinary people”, a voice behind John slurred.  
“What do you want now, Sam?” John turned around, clearly annoyed.  
“I just wanted to ask why you sit here, alone with him, and not over there with all the ladies and me. We’re having quite some fun, you’re missing out!” Sam smirked, “It looks like I’m getting laid tonight!”  
After taking in a few deep breaths to calm down John answered: “I’m sure my talk with Mr. Holmes is far more interesting than listening to your drunk chatter over there, so no thanks, I’m fine here”  
Sam shrugged his shoulders and made his way back to his ladies, where one of them patted next to her on the bench for Sam to sit. When he did she lung her arms around him and pecked him on the lips. That was when John’s eyes refused to look at them any longer and instead turned his vision back to Mr. Holmes.  
“Here’s your pint, Mr. Watson. Have you thought about the job?”  
The pint was placed in front of him on the table.  
“Thank you very much, Mr. Holmes. Actually I didn’t have time to think, Sam was being annoying again” John sighed. “What about you tell me about the latest case you had? That way I could get a better of what my job could be.”  
Two pints later Mr. Holmes had finished telling him about his latest case, and two others, as John just couldn’t get enough of them. The conductor’s brilliance impressed him and he had to hold back the Amazing!’s and the Incredible!’s after every sentence.  
“So, since you want to hear so much about my work I really think you should take the offer I made you, Mr. Watson”, he finally stated, “I’d really like you to work with me.”  
“I see your point there Mr. Holmes.” John let his gaze wander through the pub, it was pretty much empty as it got late and the rest of the band had already left. “I think we should get going though”, he added.  
“Alright”, Mr. Holmes returned, “would you like to come to my place? We could talk about the details there in private, plus I have a very good scotch in my cupboard we could share.”  
He flashed a smile at John, which he immediately returned. They both got up John packed his trumpet and went to the pub’s entrance where Mr. Holmes held the door open for him.  
“We’ll take the cab, it’s the easiest way to get to my flat”, Holmes decided, so cab it was.  
I didn’t take them long to find one. The lanky man had to do noting more than wave his hand and call out “TAXI!”  
“221 Baker Street”, the driver was directed while they climbed in clumsily and off they were.

 

Fifteen minutes later the taxi stopped in front of 221 Baker Street. John wanted to pay the driver but Mr. Holmes was faster, so he climbed out and waited on the sidewalk, his vision a bit blurry from the alcohol that slowly started to show its effect. “Here we are”, said Mr. Holmes as he opened the door, “welcome to my home! Right up the stairs it is” and led the way.  
In flat B he turned to John: “If I may take your coat”  
“You may”, John answered with a grin as Mr. Holmes helped him to get out of it and hung it up.  
“You can leave your trumpet right here”, Mr. Holmes said before he turned around and went into the kitchen to receive two tumblers for the scotch.  
John let his gaze wander over the flat. “It’s nice here, I like it!”  
“You can sit down by the fire place, if you’d like to. I’ll join you immediately!”  
Holmes was just walking out of the kitchen, two heavy glasses in his hands, and pointed his chin at the two chairs for John to sit. He chose the chair on the left with the afghan draped over the back and a union-jack pillow. Mr. Holmes then passed him on his way to the mantle where the scotch bottle had its place. While his host was occupied with pouring the drinks and turning his back towards John he couldn’t help it but staring at his arse. Unconsciously he licked his lips. If he could only tou-  
In that moment Holmes turned around: “Here, your drink” he said as he held it out to John.  
“Thank you, Mr. Holmes!” John smiled warmly as he took it.  
“Oh please, call me Sherlock!” the man offered before he sat down in the other chair.  
“Of course, Sherlock, I’ll be John for you then” John answered only too happy to finally be on first name terms with him.  
Sherlock raised his glass: “Cheers, John”  
“Cheers!” John repeated the motion and then swirled the liquid in the tumbler before he took a sip.  
“So, to business”, Sherlock started after a short pause, “do you have any questions?”  
He crossed his legs, waiting. His arms were placed at the armrests the right hand lazily holding the drink in a relaxed grip. Distracted by the shiny curls that playfully reflected the warm light in the room John found it really difficult to concentrate. What could he ask about… he knew there was something important. Ah!  
“What about the salary? In case I choose to take your offer I will have to quit the surgery I assume. The new job would have to come up for all my living costs.”  
“The police don’t pay me”, Sherlock stated. “All I get is the mystery of the puzzle and the thrill of the chase. Sometimes I have private clients but I only take their cases if they are interesting enough. Those are the only people who pay me money at the moment. I would recommend you to keep the job at the surgery as a part time. Thus your income would be enough for the moment, together with the money from the private clients.”  
“Oh, I see” John mumbled. “But… how can you afford this nice flat in central London if you don’t earn money?”  
“I can’t”, Sherlock simply answered.  
“What - you can’t afford it? Why are you living here then?” John furrowed his brow in confusion; this couldn’t be true.  
“I am currently looking for a flatmate and I was hoping that you might consider that if you took the job. It would be easier to work together that way” Sherlock locked his eyes with John’s.  
“I… this actually comes … a bit out of the blue” John answered startled. “I don’t even know if the job is something for me.”  
“But I know it, John! You will absolutely love it! The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline pumping through your veins, catching criminals, the two of us against the world!”  
John didn’t answer right away instead he emptied his glass in one go. Sherlock copied him in doing so and asked if John was in for another round. As he nodded Sherlock got up a bit unsteadily and went over to the mantle again. Sherlock apparently had some problems with his balance; he had to steady himself with a hand to the wall while he poured the Scotch for them. John couldn’t stop himself from staring, he just couldn’t. Before he could even engage himself in fantasies about that arse Sherlock turned around to hand him his glass back and sat back down in the chair opposite.  
“So, are you on a case right now?” John asked letting his gaze swipe over the files scattered over the table by the window.  
“Oh, not right now but I will be soon” Sherlock answered and his fingers tapped against his glass. “There is something interesting going on in the city right now and I think it won’t take NSY much longer to consult me.”  
“And when they do you want me to assist you?”  
“Exactly!” Sherlock stated. Then he reached out and put his hand on John’s knee. “I know you aren’t fully convinced yet but there is one more reason if I deduced it right. Let me show you” Sherlock winked at him and then knocked back his Scotch.  
Curiously John copied him and set his glass aside, his eyes fixed on the man opposite him. Sherlock smirked and slowly got out of his chair to get closer to John until he was looming over him.  
“I don’t usually read the signs wrong but tell me if I did” the low voice rumbled.  
Then Sherlock reached out for John’s cheek. His breath hitched as the long, slim fingers cradled his face. With wide eyes he looked up at Sherlock but didn’t pull away. This was what the man apparently took as consent. The next thing John knew were those soft lips carefully brushing over his. His arms slung themselves around Sherlock’s shoulder and pulled him closer until the man sat in his lap. He pressed their lips together harder and opened his mouth in invitation. Sherlock immediately read the sign and let his tongue lick over John’s bottom lip. John’s right hand moved up to burrow itself in the dark curls while the other one slid down to the small of Sherlock’s back to pull their bodies closer together.  
After some time Sherlock broke the kiss. “I hope I could convince you with this” he said with a smirk.  
John grinned: “Jesus, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this!” His hand slid lower to caress Sherlock’s hip. “But I don’t think this was enough to convince me yet, I need more of this”  
Sherlock arched his eyebrow at this. “Then come and get it, John!”  
Without hesitation John pulled Sherlock’s head back down to claim his lips again. Sherlock’s torso pulled flush against his felt like two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly. The alcohol made the world rotate around the two of them and John’s head to feel funny. He giggled into the kiss and Sherlock had to pull back when John’s breath tickled on his skin and he had to laugh too.  
“Lestrade is coming to join us” the man in John’s lap suddenly slurred between two giggles.  
“Who’s Listreid?” John asked confused.  
“D.I. Lestrade, he solves murders. Well, he tries and then I solve them for him because he’s an idiot” Sherlock stated proudly, pushing out his chest.  
“And how do you know that?”  
“Apparently kissing and alcohol makes you stupid, John. The police lights outside! Obviously!” He wildly gestured towards the window.


End file.
